Round 2, v Mitchell Rangers, home

It was a sublime autumn afternoon but you just knew —from as early as the 15th minute, in fact— that it was going to be one of those days. Although we looked to have a stronger side than Mitchell Rangers, although our effort was unquestionable, although we were all having good hair days, none of our passes were sticking and the young gals of the Rangers were hurrying and harrying us at every turn.

Then, with the exceeding generosity of an accommodating host (“Is there anything you need? A drink? A cube of cheddar on a Jatz cracker? A goal, perhaps?”), we gave away the ball cheaply on the edge of our own penalty area, and a high, looping, somewhat hopeful shot inevitably found the space between Deb’s raised hands and the underside of the bar. One down.

And despite Deb making two excellent saves over the next 30 minutes, including one with her face from point blank range, our luck never looked like changing. Three times we were prevented from drawing level and even going ahead —foiled each time by some excellent saves from the Rangers keeper and the intervention of the posts.

At halftime I urged the Bras to slow things down, to not let the pressure of the Rangers panic them into kicking the ball away. The message may have been lost, however, when my three-year-old Abbie interrupted my halftime talk to ask me if she could have a confectionery snake from the packet that lay on the ground adjacent to the container of oranges. No, not a red one. A yellow one. Actually, not yellow. Orange. Can I have two? It’s not ideal, I realised then, to coach a team and babysit a three-year-old at the same time. Which is probably why Pim Verbeek doesn't do it when he oversees the Socceroos.

Little changed in the second half, apart from the fact we were now completely dominating possession. Kate P, Sue and Lauren were rocks at the back, and we began to assert some control in midfield, but an equalizer was proving elusive as again that final pass went astray, and our touch let us down. ‘Daddy, I’m tired, I want to go home,’ Abbie implored me. ‘I want to go home too,’ I said, after seeing a promising move come to nothing when a ball was passed into touch, ‘but I suppose I need to see this through.’

Just as Jess was getting restless on the bench beside me (“Can you just put me on?” she asked, ready to throw away her crutches and take her chances with her torn plantar fascia tissue in her right foot) we finally got a reward for effort when, during a goalmouth scramble, Rhi side-footed a bouncing ball into the corner of the Rangers goal. Having looked so silly in her new, bright yellow, boots, Rhi suddenly looked, well, not heroic exactly, but at least a little less silly.

Like a lie in with a hot cuppa and a fresh newspaper, a late goal is a wonderful thing and it spurred us on, simultaneously zapping Mitchell of their resolve. And if anyone looked like snatching a winner it was us.

And so it proved. Bullocking her way into the Rangers penalty area Rosie chased the ball which was bouncing around like a pinball. From six yards she caught up with the blighter and smacked it home. Jubilant Bras raced to her as quickly as kids to a Mr Whippy van cruising their street on a scorching day. And didn’t we all go a little do-lally on the sideline — particularly Rosie’s husband Berto, and her two boys, Omar and Pablo, who had only recently arrived, just in the nick of time as it proved.

To add icing to what was now a beautifully-risen cake Emily was rewarded for her endeavour when, with a couple of minutes left on the clock, she pounced on a loose ball and whacked it inside the left hand upright.

Yep, it was one of those days, alright. One of those wonderful, wonderful days.

[Result: 3-1 win. Goals - Rhiannon, Rosie, Emily]

NEXT MATCH, Sunday May 2: v Tullamarine Jets, Sumner Park, East Brunswick, 11am.